


Physical Examination

by greygerbil



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Inappropriate Use of Earth Magic, M/M, Medical Kink, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Catasach decides to pay Dunncas back for an inordinate amount of teasing by performing a thorough examination on him.
Relationships: Catasach/Dunncas (GreedFall)
Kudos: 7





	Physical Examination

Catasach enjoyed it more than he would admit when Dunncas toyed with him.

Dunncas was not a man prone to great silliness, but there was a faint playful streak in his demeanour that would resurface in the occasional level-headed but sharp-tongued remark or an eye-roll at someone who exasperated him, or, on the other hand, in happier ways when he was at ease and did not feel like he had to watch his words and movements too closely. The latter was true around Catasach, for which he was grateful, though he was sure the sweet fermented juice they had been drinking had done its part to loosen Dunncas’ grip on himself, too.

The flowers that, in miniscule, almost imperceptible increments of growth kept winding around his fingers had been teasing Catasach all evening as they sat around the fire with the Elders of the _Beraíg Nodas_ , which was starting to put him on edge in the most pleasant way. Every now and then, Catasach would shake out his wrist and get rid of the thin winding blossoms before someone noticed that they were holding his fingers quite purposefully instead of being a tangle he happened to have rested his hand on, but he would always put his palm back down on the earth, allowing the game to continue.

The conversation had long moved away from matters of politics to anecdotes and idle chatter, tempting Catasach to let his thoughts and gaze stray. It returned time and again to Dunncas, who kept looking at him trough the highest of the flames licking up at the sky, the fire reflecting in his eyes, changing their calm pale green into a burning forest that left Catasach hypnotised until Dunncas turned away to give his attention to somebody else and the flowers licked at Catasach’s fingertips again.

Finally, he shook his hand fully free once more and laid it in his lap.

“I would like to stay, but it is late and I still want to check on your wound tonight, Dunncas,” Catasach said.

“You are right, we should get to that. It is why you were kind enough to come, after all,” Dunncas answered evenly. “Feel free to go to my house and prepare what you need. I have worked with the earth much today, so I will take a quick bath in the stream before I join you.”

They both stood and said their goodbyes, bowing their heads to their elders and then parted without looking at each other again. The gossip and public scrutiny over something that was as of now new and unexplored were not yet worth the satisfaction of open affection, but Catasach had a feeling they were both looking forward to a time when they did not have to hide. Mindlessly, he let his fingers brush over the spot where the flowers, directed in their impertinent ways by Dunncas’ subtle magic, had played with his thumb. 

Dunncas’ abode was not a very private-looking place and in that reminded Catasach of his own. The rituals and spell preparations and council meetings and audiences took over the houses of men and women like them, turning them from homes to halls. Dunncas’ bedstead was in the very back, an afterthought. Catasach counted three blankets and smiled with the memory of adding one to his own bed just a few nights ago. Dunncas had not complained, but Catasach had felt how cold his hand and feet had been against his skin, how he’d shivered against him while asleep when a wind rattled the door and blew through the gaps of the wood. That night, Catasach had used his body to warm him and made note of the detail that Dunncas was sensitive to the cold, storing it away in his mind like a pretty bauble as one did with little observations about one’s lover. Though there had been trysts, it had been their first full night together and their only one so far, which Catasach was excited like a youth to repeat once more.

There was, however, an actual wound to treat before he could close Dunncas in his arms again, and perhaps something to do about the anticipation that Dunncas’ little game had left him to struggle with all evening. He unpacked his satchel and had just finished laying out his utensils when the door opened.

Dunncas had only pulled on his shoes and trousers and the roughspun undershirt of flaxen colour, carrying his much more elaborate headdress and tunic in his arms. With even the paint washed from his face, he looked already naked to Catasach now. It was the members of one’s own clan that one was used to see without markings after the rain or a jump in the river or simply on an early morning, but Dunncas and him were not quite so familiar yet. Catasach hoped he would soon be used to the sight.

“You still favour your right leg. I already noticed when you greeted me.”

“Of course you did,” Dunncas said, smiling, and put his clothes down. “But it was a long day already when you arrived. My left leg is not so bad in the mornings.”

“Ah, yes,” Catasach said, watching him as he straightened the feathers of the tunic. “It is unwise of me to forget that you will follow my orders to the last unless I ask you to take a rest.”

Dunncas chuckled because he had no counterargument, Catasach presumed.

“There is much to do and I cannot pass it all on to others. Would you like to see the wound?”

Catasach nodded. Dunncas leaned down to take off his shoes and leather breeches and then sat on his bedstead. He was naked from the waist down, modesty only provided by the length of the tunic, which hung to his knees. Moving a little awkwardly around the pain, he sat back against the wall, allowing his left leg to fall to the side. It was a position that allowed Catasach access to his bandaged thigh, but he was briefly distracted by what else it might have allowed him to reach for. A flicker of his gaze up to Dunncas’ face, where he found an impish smile, told him Dunncas was aware. It plucked the same string as Dunncas’ teasing had all evening.

Carefully he unwrapped the bandages and surveyed the wound. It was healing fine, albeit not as fast as it could have had Dunncas allowed himself to slow down. There would be a scar, a serrated line where the blade of a frightened mind-shaker had slashed through his clothes. According to Dunncas, the group of them had already been half-mad with fear, running from where a guardian protected the thicket of the forest. They had attacked Dunncas in frenzied self-defence and let up to continue their flight when it was clear he was not a fighter who planned to stand in their way. 

“You look troubled. Is something wrong?” Dunncas asked gently.

Catasach ran his fingertips around the new, reddish skin, let his magic flow into Dunncas’ flesh.

“I just have treated too many wounds caused by the _renaigse_ these last years.” 

“And you have done so with all the skill we could wish for. Set aside your worries for tonight. There’s nothing we can do until the sun rises.”

“You are right,” Catasach said.

It should have been something that had come to his own mind before the words left his mouth, but one of the things he enjoyed about Dunncas’ presence was that at times he could allow himself to be angry, resentful, or worried, and expect to be carefully led back to a better path.

He reached over to the materials he had spread out. In a small earthen flask he carried a tincture of ground pot marigold, an easily acquired but effective ointment that made the tissue grow back fast and strong. He poured the thick, slippery liquid on his fingers.

“I do not need more bandages. You should let the wound breathe to heal now,” he said, as he spread the ointment over the inner side of Dunncas’ thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb over the healing skin.

Dunncas’ hand came down on his, holding his wrist.

“Let me.” 

Catasach threw him a questioning glance and was answered with a lopsided smile.

“You are my healer now, but my body sees you differently. You have pleasantly strong hands, do you know?”

Hesitating a moment, Catasach finally lifted his other hand and removed Dunncas’ grip on his wrist. If Dunncas wanted to play, perhaps he was of a mind to join him instead of getting gently needled and confounded at every turn as usual. Had he not enjoyed the fruit juice, perhaps he would have stopped himself, but there was a slight buzz to his thoughts, making all edges a little softer.

“If you had not spend so much time tonight trying to get my attention, your body would not be quite so focused on that,” he said sternly. “I will administer the treatment. I am your healer, as you say.”

Dunncas’ brows rose, the corner of his mouth twitching, and Catasach felt slight satisfaction that he had managed to get the better of him for once.

“I suppose that is fair...”

Catasach gave a curt nod before he resumed his work. In truth, of course, he did not treat him like any other patient. His touch was no different as he massaged the ointment into his skin, but his fingers dipped too far up, under the fabric, where the flesh was barely marred. There was something about the way that Dunncas sat before him – without clan marks and in so much less clothing, easily accepting of his touch – that excited him in a way he had not considered before and let an idea suddenly bloom in his mind.

“I have not examined you thoroughly in a fortnight,” Catasach said slowly, checking with a glance if Dunncas would go along with the game. “I should do so to make sure no infection has entered your blood.”

“I defer to your superior wisdom on that part,” Dunncas answered easily.

Catasach sat back and beckoned Dunncas to come forward. With a quick grip, he pulled the tunic over his head, leaving him finally fully naked. Though Catasach’s attraction was to a man’s mind first, there was no denying that he enjoyed the sight of him. Dunncas was no fighter, but controlling the volatile magic of the earth and carrying soil and wood and stones for a myriad of rituals had left his body firm and well-shaped. He ran his eyes from the dip of his collarbones over the plane of his chest, covered with a dust of tight black curls, and then down to where his soft cock sat between his legs. Dunncas shifted, not uncomfortable, but almost nervous, expectant. Catasach did not let it hurry him along. After all, Dunncas had left him on the hook all evening.

With measured care, he raised his hand and took Dunncas’ pulse at his neck, then at his wrist. It ran just a little too fast, but Catasach was sure he knew the reason.

“I will test your response to cold and warmth,” he said, lifting his hand and placing it on Dunncas’ chest, making sure to cover a nipple. “I noticed you usually react strongly to them, so I want to see if you are numbed. Do you feel this?” 

His magic allowed him to regulate the temperature of his skin, a small sleight of hand he had used often to calm a feverish patient or warm one that had been frozen in a bitter storm. Dunncas closed his eyes as he transmitted the warmth into his body, clearly enjoying it.

“I do,” he said quietly.

“And this?”

The shift was mercilessly quick and Dunncas convulsed as Catasach’s palm grew icy cold, a shiver running through him. Catasach could feel Dunncas’ nipple pebbling under his skin and pressed his hand down a little more, earning another shudder. His body answered the touch in another way, too, though.

“I can see some responses still work very well,” Catasach said flatly. “I had not even touched you there. Quite impressive for a man some years past his youth.”

“It must be because there is someone here who knows just to take care of my body.”

Strange how Dunncas could almost shatter all of Catasach’s usually unshakeable control with just a look like the one he shot him now. The power the man held in minute gestures and glances was amazing. This intricate connection from one body to the other had to be part of having found one’s _minundhanem_. To Catasach’s luck, however, the current of this sensation obviously went both ways.

He let his hand drop back to Dunncas’ leg.

“Do you know the most exact way to feel someone’s temperature?”

“With a hand over the heart?” Dunncas guessed. “Or at the inside of the cheek?”

“Those are the ones I would use on others, but I did say I wanted to be thorough. If you want to know the exact temperature of the body, naturally you would need to be inside.”

As he spoke, he took hold of Dunncas’ knees and moved him to inch forward so only his shoulders leaned against the wall anymore, which left Catasach sitting between his spread legs. Dunncas swallowed, drew in air as Catasach methodically touched his cock, moving the foreskin with his thumb, measuring it in his hand as if assessing the gentle curve of it, then gathered his balls up in his hand, giving them a brief, gentle squeeze. He spilled some more of the pot marigold tincture of his fingers before he reached underneath them and pressed against the puckered hole. The muscle yielded easily to the intrusion, Dunncas accepting him in without hesitation. Catasach kept his eyes down, as he would have when administering a treatment, but he caught at the corner of his vision the quick rise and fall of Dunncas’ chest, though he kept his breathing low.

There was a sudden uncomfortable realisation as he pushed the finger in, really focusing on the warmth. His skin had been quite heated, too, but Catasach had figured that an effect of the summer air.

“Your temperature _is_ too high.” 

“I know, it has been for a while. It’s just a light fever,” Dunncas said, voice breathless as he chuckled. “It surprises me you actually paid attention.”

“It should not,” Catasach muttered. “This is because you did not rest as I told you. You know this, don’t you? Must I tie you down here?”

“After tonight, I suddenly have no trouble believing you might.”

Catasach hid a smile and crooked his finger. He knew the ins and outs of the body well and the small, firm spot he had found inside Dunncas gave him just the reaction he wanted, a gentle spasm of muscles and soft intake of air.

“Can you spare the time from your people to stay the day?” Dunncas joked, cocking his head. “If you were here in my bed, perhaps I would find it easier to overcome my good judgement and be selfish.”

“It is not selfish to take care of the health of the _mál_ and you know that.”

Again Catasach pressed on the point, massaging it hard, aware the pressure might almost hurt, and kept it up until Dunncas gave a strangled gasp, raising his hands in defeat.

“You know how to make a point.”

Slowly, Catasach relaxed his wrist.

“I will stay tomorrow... the people of your village cannot lose their _mál_ , but I cannot chance to lose their _mál_ , either. Especially not to his own stubbornness.”

“I do hope it will take worse than a fever to return me to the earth.”

“Yet you cannot count on it.” He added another finger, roughly pushing it in to the second knuckle. Dunncas’ seized up for a moment and Catasach held still. “It seems to me that being in charge has made you forget how to obey when necessary. Relax.”

“I see that I am in for a tough lesson,” Dunncas murmured, taking a deep breath. He reached out and tugged at the fabric of Catasach’s garments, angling his head so that he could kiss him past the protruding bone frame of his headdress. 

Catasach was not quite sure how he had stumbled on this part of the game; he had not planned it, but his annoyance over Dunncas’ inability to act in his own best interest had warped what had been gentle teasing into something a little more forceful. Yet, Dunncas had opened for his fingers and was licking into his mouth and Catasach could not stop himself from gripping his hips harder. When they parted, he removed his fingers and, with resolute touches, directed Dunncas to get on his knees.

“I won’t put pressure on your wound,” he reassured him as he bunched up two of Dunncas’ thick blankets under his hips.

“I know,” Dunncas answered, smiling.

Without much preamble, Catasach unlaced his breeches, slicked himself up and pushed into Dunncas. It was not a quick thrust, but an enduring movement that did not stop as he usually might have to reassure himself that Dunncas was comfortable every moment. The feathers and fabric of his garment rested against Dunncas’ skin and Catasach found his gaze dwelling on the contrast of himself still protected by the elaborate dress of a _doneigad_ and Dunncas willingly stripped off everything.

All the little ticks they have played on each other had Catasach too excited to draw this out. He reached around Dunncas to take his manhood in hand and stroked it firmly before he began to move his hips. Under him, Dunncas murmured a jumble of words that could have been a blessing or a curse. He rocked back into Catasach’s thrusts, taking him all the way in, the muscle in his back rippling, his legs sliding apart. He came before Catasach, but by little more than a few moments, just as on edge as him, gasping with release. Catasach held him tightly in place, his grip only slipping as his release came over him.

Catasach rested against Dunncas’ back for a few blissful, blank moments as Dunncas reached back and gently caressed his arm. He seemed to lie on clouds, enveloped by the pine wood scent of Dunncas and the odour of crushed pot marigold.

However, when his consciousness cleared and Catasach was forced to look back through his own thoughts on what they had done, the haze of building arousal washed away now and leaving only the stark actions, he felt heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks. He removed himself from Dunncas’ body and cleaned them with the blanket that had already been dirtied by Dunncas’ seed.

“I suppose now you must have a great idea of the temperature of my body,” Dunncas said as he sat up.

Catasach felt suddenly much too sober. He tucked himself back in and frowned, looking down at Dunncas’ wound, hoping he hadn’t done any damage, though he knew already that he had been careful. With lust and drink and Dunncas’ sweet swords, he had not thought as deeply as he should have, but he had always been one to find himself thoughtful after an act of intimacy, with an almost cold feeling following the crest.

Dunncas cupped his face with both hands and lifted it until Catasach had to look him in the eyes. He was smiling at him.

“Now, why are you embarrassed?”

“I got carried away. I did not mean to act so foolishly.”

“Why?” Dunncas asked simply.

Catasach opened his mouth and closed it again. The answer was obvious, but in that hard to put in words. The fact that he had allowed folly, irritation, and a strange domineering spark take over all spoke ill of him and yet it seemed not to have bothered Dunncas, who was the only victim of his changeable, alcohol-altered mood.

Dunncas kissed him.

“Let go of shame, my _minundhanem_. You have offended nobody. Did it not look like I enjoyed myself with your supposed foolishness?” He lowered his hand to Catasach’s thighs. “You need not be the _tiern_ for me every second of your life. After all, I am not just a _mál_ to you. Do you think I tease my apprentices and the Elders with flowers?”

“I hope not,” Catasach said, finally allowing a little ease to flow into his voice. “I like to believe they are mine.”

Dunncas smiled and pressed another kiss on his mouth. Catasach turned his head only to finally take off his headdress and hair band, letting his hair fall down over his shoulders, before he leaned in again.

“You still have to stay in bed tomorrow,” he said, as he grasped a clean blanket and draped it around Dunncas’ shoulders.

“Oh, you made that _very_ clear.”

Catasach gave him a stern look for the mocking note in his voice, but could not help smiling.


End file.
